


Hybristophilia

by KaylaMoon



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984, Dahmer (2002), Jeffrey Dahmer - Fandom, My Friend Dahmer (2017), Richard Ramirez - Fandom, Ted Bundy - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaylaMoon/pseuds/KaylaMoon
Summary: Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey DahmerThe Unholy TrinityPsychopath KillersHave you ever wondered who would they have been if they were happy and loved?Let's try...This is the story of a girl that gifts her love to the ones nobody wants to help."𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒐 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖."!! I PUBLISH ONCE A DAY !! (Sometimes I may jump a day because of technical issues)
Relationships: Jeffrey Dahmer & Original Female Character(s), Jeffrey Dahmer/Richard Ramirez, Richard Ramirez & Original Female Character(s), Ted Bundy/Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy/Original Female Character(s), Ted Bundy/Richard Ramirez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	1. Welcome to the End of the World

𝕳𝖞𝖇𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆

Also called "Bonnie & Clyde Syndrome", it's a paraphilia involving attraction to infamous criminals that committed gruesome crimes.

**Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer**

**The Unholy Trinity**

**Psychopath Killers**

Have you ever wondered who would they have been if they were happy and loved?

Let's try...

Happiness is found in the Darkness only when no Light saves you.

I invite you to read these people's stories before reading the book. Their life has been far away from perfect and all the horrible things they lived and they did are too many and too important to be summarized. Please, listen to their words, read about them and try to understand their minds and hearts, then come back here.

I don't condone with what Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer did, I'm not trying to justify them. I never knew them personally and I absolutely pay respect to all the people involved in any way in their life and crimes, I don't dare to judge them. However, I don't think Richard, Ted and Jeffrey are monsters because I don't believe anyone can be a monster and as humans being I believe they deserved to be unconditionally loved like all of us. I hope they did.

❤ Love is what we all live for. ❤

This story is a work of fiction and it's been written just for fun, not to express an idea or an opinion . Don't take this book too seriously.

_ "I am only what you made me. I am only a reflection of you." _

Charles Manson

_ "As long as there's hate in your heart, there'll be hate in the world. You can't fight for peace and you cannot capture freedom." _

Charles Manson

-

**Richard Ramirez**

_"You don't understand me. You are not_ _expected to. You are not capable. I am_ _beyond your experience. I am beyond_ _good and evil. I will be avenged. Lucifer_ _dwells in all of us. Legions of the night, night breed, repeat not the errors of the night prowler and show no mercy."_

_ "I gave up on love and happiness a long time ago." _

**Ted Bundy**

_ "Murder is not just a crime of lust or violence. It becomes possession. The victim becomes a part of you, and you two are forever one... and the grounds where you kill them or leave them become sacred to you, and you will always be drawn back to them." _

_ "People say 'Ted Bundy didn't show any emotion, there must be something in there'. I showed emotion. You know what people said? 'See, he really can get violent and angry'." _

**Jeffrey Dahmer**

_ "I had these obsessive desires and thoughts wanting to control the victims, to possess them permanently." _

_ "It's hard for me to believe that a human being could have done what I've done, but I know that I did it." _

-

_ "I'm probably one of the most dangerous men in the world if I want to be. But I never wanted to be anything but me." _

Charles Manson

_ "As long as there's hate in your heart, there'll be hate in the world. You can't fight for peace and you cannot capture freedom." _

Charles Manson

Oh! I almost forgot... This book contains mature contents. 😌


	2. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria talks about the worst day of her life and how it made her want to love the nobodies nobody wants to help.

_I don't want to become the monster you think I am._

I keep reading his last words in his diary. Dylan was the nicest guy I've ever known, people slowly killed him inside and nobody did anything to help him. He searched so hard for a crack of light to jump in, but all he found is a friend that felt like him and the weapons he needed to make people understand how they were feeling. I feel like I'm the only one that saw his pain. I could have done something, but... I just didn't. So he shot himself... after bombing our school and shooting a dozen of students with Eric. I was there, I saw them insulting students and shooting them, and the death in their wide-opened eyes... I wish I knew Eric too, but he was too good to stifle his emotions, I couldn't have helped him... or everyone could and thought they couldn't? Maybe a hug, or the words "I love you" would have stopped him.

I can see Eric in my mind, in his bedroom, the 19th of April, silently begging everyone and everything to stop him and save him from his demons, himself. Giving a last chance to the world to help him in the simplest human way he knew: a few words, a hug. He will wait for that until he'll be dead, but he won't ask for it. He knows what happens when he shows his real feelings, he needs to keep his mask on and wait for someone that's not afraid to dig deep enough in him, or just care, just find him interesting. With the mask off, he's vulnerable, and there are too many white hats at school that enjoys his pain and have no respect for him. Tomorrow there will be none anymore. But tomorrow it's the day, he won't let himself cry despite he will hope to be loved until the end. It's never too late, nothing is impossible, they can stop him and save all the next lives he would try to take if they don't. _Natural Selection_. I can see Dylan, accepting that no one knows about the NBK and no one will until it will be too late. I see him shaking his head, incredulous. He just wanted to feel loved, that would have been enough for him to be happy and stay alive. But the world, the people, never cared about his needs and wishes, his happiness and all the love he has inside and wants to give. Hopefully they will, when they'll realize how many innocent victims a single shattered heart can do. He will enter in the history as a monster, but goddamn, he swears no one will dare to annoy the quiet kid anymore after what he'll do. He will be brutal, ruthless and godlike. He will enjoy every fucking drip of blood his victims will spill, the future needs it. I see his lips parting in an angry smile. _Wrath_.

People hate Eric and Dylan. They see them as monsters. The monsters they made them become with their hate.

They always hated them. They just wanted to be themselves, they wanted to love and be loved and people filled them with hate and pain. How can you pretend peace and love from someone you let only knows your hate? How dare you to pretend love from someone you make suffer every day? Their pain became anger. After all, when you have too much pain you have four choices: have luck and find love, turn it into a different kind of energy like hate, hide it and let it consumes you or go mad.

They (probably involuntarily) chose to see the good in the bad. They chose to stop crying when bullies called them nicknames. They chose to laugh with them when they insulted them. They chose to insult them and laugh at them, as they did with them, when they were shaking under the desks with a shotgun pointed at their head. They chose to smile when they shot them in the face. They chose to sacrifice innocents when they realized it was too late and these people's lives would have made their massacre more significant, valuable, important. Then they chose to shot themselves and wake up from the nightmare their life was.

Now I can't stop imagining myself running to them with the guns in their hands and hugging them, telling them that maybe I don't know exactly how they feel and what they've been through but I swear I will do everything in my power to help them feeling loved and happy. I wish they were alive, but at the same time I know they wouldn't be happy now that everyone thinks they are monsters.

They were innocent and in pain, and I knew this. I could have saved these angels before they became angels of death, but I did nothing. I won't repeat the same mistake. Never again.

No one is a monster. People become bad because of pain. I will take that pain away.

I'm a depressed, lazy teenager with no friends - not anymore. People call me loser and I'm ok with it, because I know I am.

But if I have a talent, that is to love, and I swear I'll use it to save as more people like me and Dylan and Eric as possible. No human deserves to suffer so much to start finding joy in pain. And get used to it, find comfort in it, and start thinking it's normal and feeling and seeming ok.

**If you would have known Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, what kind of relationship would you have had with each one of them?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wattpad: @HappyKaylaMoon  
> If you have any questions, you can text me on Wattpad!


	3. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria meets her best friend at work, a woman named Aileen...

My fears are making my mission to help people harder. I can't keep locking myself at home, work hidden in a bar's kitchen and ask Aileen to buy groceries for me. Not after what happened to Dylan and Eric five years ago. I should get my ass on the damn counter and talk to clients, as the badass Aileen encouraged me to do since I started working here, a few years ago. One day maybe I'll also find the courage to buy a home in the city and stop living in a modern village in the middle of a wood. Yea, maybe one day I won't hide anymore, I'll not be afraid to be myself and I'll find love in this cruel world. Now I want to take the first step in the right direction, I want to be free and open myself to the possibility to be happy and loved. I'm ready. I must be ready.

"Good morning, Aileen!" I gumble in the kitchen as she slowly turns her head to me.

I see a thrill sparkling in her usually dead eyes. "Girl, are you high? You seem more enthusiast than the usual Vicky kid jumping around in the kitchen you are. What kind of pill have you swallowed today? Whatever it is, I need it too." She lights a cigarette and start smoking whatever she put in it.

"I decided to work at the counter! I want to help people. I'll make a lot of new friends. You find a new friend every day here, what's your secret?"

"Oh my God..." She facepalms. "I don't make new friends, honey. I find new clients. My secret is walking around with my big ass and let them slap it, then give them my number and suck off those porks in their cars. That's it."

"So they will approach me, I don't need to do anything. Great news!"

She opens her mouth trying to say something, then shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Now make me a coffee, it's 9:00 pm, I woke up a few minutes ago and you know I can't live without my coffee. God, I still have headache, there are too many proud men talking bullshits out loud at the counter. Take my coffee and then go to be their slave."

"Sure!" I walk to the little room where Aileen lives in the bar.

"Honey, wait!"

"Mh?"

"Take one of my dresses, you can't walk in this place without showing off what mother nature gave you."

I nod.

Walking out, I hear my friend murmuring her usual insults to the men's gender. I hope she'll stop hating them all, I know she needs the love of a man too. Maybe not  _ that _ kind of love, the one she wants from women, but she needs a lovely man in her life that makes her forget about all the abuse she lived. Men aren't all bad like... all the ones she met and meet every day. Ok, they may be a little scary and too dominant, but they aren't monsters. Love will save them all from themselves!

I study Aileen's dresses: they are mostly back and way too short for me despite Aileen is higher than me. Moving the clothes, I finally find a beautiful strapless pink dress with a large pompous skirt. I struggle to put it on: this dress was probably made for a kid, but I'm 150 cm and slim enough to fit in it. I take a pair of black heels, then apply pink gloss on my lips and draw a long feline line from the corner of my eyes with a black eyeliner.

Walking back in the kitchen to go make Aileen's coffee on the counter, I'm stopped by her laugh.

"What the fuck?! You seem a big candy."

"I know. I thought I should have been tasty." I wink to her and her laugh turns into an approving smile.

"You're one of those smart women that play life's game like an idiot to take it easy, don't you? Ok, innocent girl. Go make victims."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I lick my lips and she laughs. "Anyway, I'll go to make your coffee." I push the door open and exit the kitchen, exaggeratedly moving my hips... until I see the crowd of men at the counter. My smile fades away.

**Describe your best friend with three adjectives! 👉**


	4. Jeffrey Dahmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria finds her first friend in the bar. After drinking and laughing with the man for way too much, she follows him to his home. She's a shy girl, but she's also drunk and thirsty... it shouldn't be a problem if she takes a glass of water from the fridge, right? It's just the fridge of a stranger. A stranger named Jeffrey Dahmer.

_ They are just people.  _ Trying not to panic, I gulp and try to distract myself.

Coffee and smoke are in the air already. I love good smells. I close my eyes and listen to the chatting, taking a long breath to feel the strong aroma of cappuccino... and vodka. My eyes snap open and search for the drink. I find it in the big hand of a muscular body. The man, almost leaned on the counter as he nervously looks around, will be my first client and maybe my first friend! Suddenly his eyes are on mine. I freeze. I see a corner of his mouth raising before my eyes start trying to move anywhere far away from that blonde guy.

I speed to make Aileen's coffee, trying to not turn and meet the guy's eyes again, and bring it to her.

"I think I found my first client, look!" I point at him with my finger, spying him from the kitchen, behind the circular windows on the door.

"Oh-oh."

"What? He's kinda cute, and sexy. I can try to befriend him. My first male friend after a long time!"

"First off: men and women can't be just friends. And... I'm sorry for you, honey, but my gay radar is beeping."

"Nah, he's not..."

"Look!" Aileen shushes me as the blonde man approached another man at the counter.

"If he's gay, he has a good target. I mean, look at those fluffy, squishy black curls!" I squish the air with my hands. His perfect face seems sculpted by an artist:  _ he must be a model, or a rockstar _ . He shakes his head, his hair waves in a satisfying slow motion, then he turns to the kitchen and I see his black eyes. There's something darker than their black in them.  _ Or the Devil _ . His evil gaze meets mine for just a second, then he turns to focus on the other man. Did he see me? Something tells me he did, and that second is impressed in his mind and his thoughts are making it become minutes.

The two start a not-so-calm discussion. The blonde guy raises his open hands while the devil gets closer to him, searching for the guy's eyes that stare at the floor.

"They are all fucking beasts."

"So strong... I want those arms to cuddle me under the moonlight."

I turn to see Aileen's jaw dropping to the floor. "That's not what I meant! I have no words... Ooff, fuck off, you'll never understand anyway. I can't wait for the day you'll know a man for real and crawl back to me, crying."

Aileen moves her hands to push the kitchen door, but I push her hands down with my whole body.

"It's my turn at the counter, I'll stop them."

"Honey..."

"No. I can do it, Aileen. Don't worry." Before she can answer, I walk in the bar and stop right behind the blonde guy.

"Excuse me?" He turns to me. He adjusts his glasses on his neck, waiting.  _ What is he waiting for? What should I do now? Oh Lord... _

I turn and walk away, but before I can take a step I feel his fingers wrapping around my wrist in a firm grip. I hold my breath for a few seconds, turning to him. The fear starts choking me as the walls close around me. It's been way too many years since I talked to a man.

"Can I help you?" His deep voice is warm and reassuring, it calms me enough to start breathing again.

"I was going to ask the same thing. I saw that guy and..." I point at the black-haired man behind him, but he's not there anymore.

"Don't worry, I'm ok. He was just an asshole." As he speaks, I smell vodka and some other kind of alcoholic beverage. He stands up. He's so big, and confident, and scary... and gorgeous. He's more than I expected.

"Good. Do you wanna drink, something? I work here."

"Not today." Aileen winks at me and serves us two Mojito.

"Uhm, thanks, but I don't drink..."

"Come on, girl! Gulp it down, this is your day!" Aileen encourages me.

"She's right. You don't casually get a free day every day, enjoy it!" The blonde man drinks his cocktail in one shot.

I sigh. "Ok, but I'll drink only one cocktail."

I stammer out the bar, laughing my ass off.

"Yeet!" I throw my cocktail as far as I can, observing it shattering on a wall. The fresh hair caresses my skin as I follow the blonde guy to his home. "What's your name?" I ask him.

"You can call me Jeff. What's yours?"

"I'm Victoria. Vicky for friends."

We proceed on a silent dirt road, the only sounds I hear are from the nature in the wood that surrounds us.

We finally arrive at his place. As he opens the door, I lean on him and put my lips on his. We smile starting in each other's eyes for a few seconds. As he enters his home, I stop at the entrance.

When he turns and he notices me, he gives me a cute smile. "Come in."

"Momma told me not to enter in stranger's home." I say in a childish tone.

"You have nothing to worry about, cutie. I don't bite." His smile is the same, but I can't help but see something creepy in it, and in his blue eyes.

I smile back and enter the home. There's something weird in this guy, the way he moves and talks, but me running away just because he looks weird it would be even more weird and wrong. I observe him taking off his jacket: he seems the quiet kid that is kinda shy and always stays in a corner in class, it would be cute if he didn't have a totally different personality from those types of shy kids. He's calm, confident... like he has some kind of plan that already worked many times.

_ I'm fucking paranoid. This is how you become when you spend five years locked at home alone. _

"I get you a drink, wait for me here." He walks me to the couch of what I think it's a living room, then he disappears. I turn around and see the kitchen. He's not there. I want my drink.

I call him with a loud annoyed moan.

"It's almost ready, cutie. I'm coming!"

I stand up and stammer to the kitchen, trying to not destroy anything. I open a cupboard and put my hand on a shelve to not fall, grabbing a pack of some kind of pills. I take them and observe them:  _ are these drugs? Whatever. It's none of my business.  _ I need a glass of water. The insecure sober me blushes, screaming at me to stop messing up Jeff's house and go home, but I don't listen to her.  _ Heroes aren't insecure! How will I help people if I don't even have the courage to... take a glass of water in a man's house? _ I open the fridge and... it's full of things wrapped in plastic. I search for something similar to a bottle of water. I take a pack and I slowly open it, tearing the plastic. I start seeing something pink. I tear the last layer of plastic and I take the flaccid thing inside it. I narrow my eyes to understand what the hell I found and if I can drink it.

My heart skips a beat. I stare at the penis with my eyes wide open. My legs shake like jelly, my arms fall at my sides letting the penis fall on the ground. I try to think, but my mind is totally blank. The fear slowly makes me sober and my view becomes clear again. Raising my head, I notice some other wrapped things, one really big... big as a head. I individuate the hair, the eyes, the nose and the mouth and... the packs at its sides, I see the fingers...

I close the fridge and walk to the door, stumbling on my feet and falling... on Jeff.

"Hey." His laugh has now a different sound, creepy as much as his smile. "I told you to not move from there. Come on, I help you to the couch."

"No. I need to go." I know I seem terrified, I need an excuse to get the fuck out of here. "My friend Aileen, she's in hospital."

"Doctors will take care of her, don't worry..."

"I need to see her, I'm sor-" I gasp as his grip on the sides of my shoulders tightens.

He sucks air through his teeth. He looks furious, out of his mind. "I said, don't leave." His voice is firm, calm. Cold. Scarier than a voice filled with anger. The silence makes everything even worse. There's no scary music, I'm not in a horror movie, it's the damn reality.

I panic and, in the same instant my heart starts beating in my throat, Jeff looks over my shoulder. I left the pills, the penis, everything on the ground.

_ Oh my God, oh shit, oh shit... what do I do?  _ I kick him in the balls and he bends over. Totally out of my mind, I almost clap my hands to compliment myself, then I see him raising, the fury all over his flushed face.  _ Run, run, run...  _ I make little jumps to stay up as I notice my foot is trapped between his legs. Then I fall, his punch hitting my face.

I cover my face, staying down. The pain is strong and I'm waiting for anything worse, but it doesn't come. I separate my fingers to see between them what's happening: Jeff is keeping me on the ground with a hand and trying to grab an iron tool with the other one.

"Please, let me go!" I cry.

"Trust me, I don't like this part of the process too. If only you had drunk that cocktail, the drugs would have not made you feel any pain. You shouldn't have tried to escape."

"What will you do to me?"

He turns to me and his cold eyes stare at me for way too much. "I will probably make a hole in your head and drop some acid in it. I don't wanna have to consider your wishes. If my experiment works, I'll keep you alive as my possession to satisfy me whenever I want. If it doesn't... I'll probably... sexually enjoy you, kill you, maybe skin you or just cook your body parts to eat them and keep you with me as long as I can and conserve some others in jars. Yea, I'll conserve your head, you're pretty, I may want to masturbate on it later." His voice is emotionless, like his eyes. He seems haunted, inhuman.

I stay in a fetal position, shocked, lying under his legs. As he bends to try to take the iron tool again, I kick his knee and he falls back.

I run out of the home, falling on the three stairs outside when he grabs my ankle. I free myself pulling my leg up and I start running. I want to scream, but the voice doesn't come out. I can barely breathe.

As I enter the wood surrounding my village, now completely dark, I turn to see where's Jeff. I see him standing up and start chasing me.

I keep running until I can't even see the trees and I must walk with my hands in front of me, totally blinded by the dark. I keep trying to scream, until my body starts twitching and I need to bend down and vomit. I force myself to stay up and pay attention to the sounds of nature that may cover Jeff's footsteps.

Despite it's night, I know this wood well enough to be sure my home is close. I walk through this every single day. I'm almost there, I know this.  _ Just a few more steps and I'll be at home. He won't catch me. He won't do those horrible things to me. _

I start walking, retching.  _ Just a few more steps... _


	5. Richard Ramirez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home sweet home... Victoria is finally safe from the maniac. She needs to relax, so she lays on her bed, the fresh air of the night caressing her skin... wait, didn't she close the window?

I'm safe. I wonder what the hell was in that man's mind. Was he a victim like Dylan? Also if he would be, it's hard to feel bad for him after what he almost did to me. But I would try, if he's a victim and I had the chance to calmly talk to him.

Now I should call the police.  _ Yea, call the police, Vicky. Let a probably innocent victim gets tortured by the hate in a cage, stealing him the chance to be saved from himself and this world and society by love _ . I sigh. I need to sleep, I'll call the police tomorrow.

I take off the dress and the heels to wear a white tank top and just cute pink underwear with a little bow on it. I lay in my bed.

I feel watched.  _ Is someone spying me? I need to take a look outside... No. No way. I won't let paranoia control my life.  _ I close my eyes.

I move my head right and left again and again. There's something wrong... I'm cold. I feel the fresh night's breeze caressing my skin. Damn, I must ask Aileen to fix the window, it keeps opening by itself. I open my eyes and... the black-haired man is on me.

He pushes his hand on my mouth before I can even think about screaming. My attempt to do it then is totally useless. His eyes look straight in my soul with such dark anger I've never seen before, maybe because it seems mixed with another feeling... amusement. It's the look of a ruthless predator that sees you dead already.

"Show me where you hide the valuables." He growls. He grabs my arm and throws me on the ground. "Hurry! I've no time to waste with you."

I wipe off my tears and stand up, walking to the kitchen. I turn to look at him just one time and it's enough to feel shivers up my spine. He's high, big, scary, like a monster from a tale. But his eyes, these are not from a tale, they are even worse than anything you can see in a horror movie: they are so real, so demonic and dark.

I slow down a bit when I get close to the furniture in the kitchen. I open a cupboard and a hand immediately pulls me back. As the man searches for jewelry, I try to run away, but he pulls me even closer to him. When he turns, our face so close I can feel his warm breath on my lips, he shows me the knife Aileen gifted me for my 18th birthday. I hold my breath.

"Bad move." These are the only words he says before dragging me to my bedroom again and starts destroying everything until he finds some jewelry and my red lipstick. He uses it to draw a reversed pentagram on the wall of my room.

"You're a Satanist." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

He turns to me, his eyes meet mines and my heart skips a beat. "Don't look at me." I obey. "Do it again and I'll pull your eyes out. And yes, I'm satanist. Hail Satan! He protects me. You must love him too. Swear on Satan I found all the jewelry in the house!"

"I swear! You found everything of valor I have."

He pushes me on my bed and bends my hands behind my back with a piece of cloth. "Your heart skipped a beat before, didn't it? I'm the only man you'll ever meet that will stop it forever. The Nightstalker." While he positions himself on me, I pull my legs under my belly and push my legs on the bed to throw myself out the window.

I hear him swearing at the window as I crawl to the wood like a worm. I'm almost in the wood when a cord wraps around my neck and strangles me as the Nightstalker sits on my back.

I keep my mouth wide open. "You take my breath away... literally." I manage to cough.

He gives me an evil laugh, freeing my neck. I finally start breathing again, but I feel incredibly tired and I can't even try to stand up. "Don't worry, there's something else I wanna take of you before killing you." I feel the tissue of my underwear tearing up, then he turns me and I finally see his amused devilish smile. "You're beautiful."

"You're handsome too, it's a pity to have to ruin your perfect face." I punch him right on the nose making him move back, then kick him in the head with my barefoot and manage to push him away and stand up.

"Nice feet, fucking whore! Check out mines!" Before I can realize what he's talking about, his shoe hit my stomach and I roll down an empty ditch behind me.

I feel every stone and twig prickling my skin until I reach the end of the hole, then I stand up and dig my nails into the dirt, climbing, feeling the dried soil under my scratched feet. Luckily the tissue bending my hands broke during the fall.

When I'm finally in the wood again, I run to the first road I find and throw myself in the middle of it, stopping a car.

"I need help!" I scream as the Volkswagen Beetle lights blind me, stopping me from seeing its driver.

"Come in the car." A charming, soothing voice invites me and I don't hesitate to jump in the vehicle.


	6. Ted Bundy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never accept a passage from a stranger... especially if that stranger is Ted Bundy.

I take a sigh of relief: I'm finally safe. I need to calm down. I see a suitcase near me, a newspaper comes out of it. I take it.

The front page's title is:  _ Ted Bundy, the serial killer that terrified the USA, is now free because of the lack of evidence _ . I observe the picture of the man: he looks like one of those evil teachers that make quizzes on Mondays and at the same time one of those mature men every girl falls in love with. He has a charming smile. Why don't bad people look like bad people? Probably because nobody is a real monster... or everyone is.

I use the newspaper to cover my sensitive parts. "I apologize, Sir. I was running away from the Night Stalker."

"I heard about him. Nobody knows his face yet. I'm sorry you had to meet such a horrible person, you seem a really nice girl."

"Don't worry, I escaped him. I'm sure the police will take him before I'll be back at home."

I see his brown eyes from the little mirror of the car. They meet mines for a second. "I wasn't talking about him." He whispers.

"Yea, there are surely many bad guys out there, but I can't meet them all. I mean, I'm not that unlucky to meet three mad killers in a day." I try to laugh, but I end up coughing.  _ That bastard almost chocked me.  _ "You can leave me here, Sir. We are in the city, I'll ask someone to call the police for me."

"You're such a beautiful girl. How old are you?"

I blush when he winks at me from the mirror. The fact that I'm naked makes the situation even more embarrassing. "I'm eighteen."

"What's your name?" He asks, parking at the invisible line that separates the wood from the city.

"I'm Victoria Snow. Who are you?"

"Name's Theodore. Take my jacket, honey. It's cold." I thank him and cover myself with his jacket. "Can you give me my bag, please?"

I hand him his bag. "Where do you work?"

"I have a degree in psychology, so I work at..."

"I love psychology!" He hands me the bag and I put it at its place, then he exits the car and opens my door.

I come out. "I recently read some facts about serial killers."

He gives me a warm smile and suddenly I feel like I already saw his face somewhere. "I forgot my phone in my back. Can you take that, please?"

I enter in the car with my upper body and open the bag. "Serial killers have really curious minds." I find some plastic garbage bags and a flashlight. "One of the most curious facts about them is about the blank stares they give you." I find a coil of rope, then an ice pick. "If they stare at you for more than five seconds..." I see a pair of gloves, then the newspaper with his face on the front page. "...it means they want to kill you or have sex with you." I turn to the fucking Ted Bundy and I meet his blank stare.

"Or both." I run down between his legs as his crowbar hit his Volkswagen Beetle. As I stand up, he pulls me back by the arm and handcuffs me. I punch him and kick him with all my strength, sobbing, when I hear the click of the handcuffs closing.

They are both on the same arm. We stare at his mistake for a few seconds, then I punch him in the face again and start running in the wood, hearing his footsteps behind me a second later.

"Keep running, bitch! Soon I'll catch you and I'll fucking cut your head off. I'll feel the last bit of breath leaving your body, looking into your eyes, and I will be like a fucking God! That's what bitches like you deserve! How could you reject a man like me? You can't! If I love you, you'll love me and I swear I'll be your last man." He screams behind me, furious, as we run deep in the darkness, among nature. I feel like human nature is way darker than this.

_ I need to go back to the bar, Aileen is my only chance to survive the night. _


	7. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria must run in the dark wood to find her best friend and call the police... the same wood where all the three killers are searching her. Will she survive to The Night Stalker, The Lady Killer and The Milwaukee Cannibal? Or will she get stabbed, abused and eaten?

I run in the cold, dark wood completely naked and chased by three psychopath killers.

I look back and I wait for my eyes to get used to the dark and see something, paying attention at every rumor I can hear around me. When I finally start to see something, I realize they all lost me. I let my legs lazily take a few more steps and suddenly something hit me. I fall back, the soil scratches my skin as I slither.

The Night Stalker stands up on me. He has Aileen's knife in his hand. "Good night, baby!" His screams cover mines as he raises his arm, ready to stab me. I close my eyes and turn on a side in a fetal position, feeling the lame cutting my bare arm. Opening my eyes, I see him raising the knife again and I kick him right in the balls. He falls on me.

I groan, struggling to push him off of me, and start running again. I look back: he's already getting up. "The more you make me hard to take you, the more your death will be painful!" He screams at me, furious.

When I turn my head to look ahead, I see another man running towards me. It's Jeff, panting, his cold gaze aiming to the prey, me.

I'm running too fast, I can't turn by myself... so I push a three on the left, making my legs change direction. I can't find a moment of peace: right in front of me there's Ted, pointing a torch on my face and raising his crowbar, breathing through his teeth.

"Fuck off!" I scream. This is crazy, real, horrible. Scary. I'm tired and sick of this fucking situation... but I don't wanna die. Not before I will have done something good for someone like Dylan and Eric, proving that people like them aren't monsters.  _ If only I could talk with these killers calmly, maybe I could help them. _

I change direction again. Ted keeps chasing me. My legs move fast with small steps to avoid any collision with trees, meanwhile my head snaps in all directions to check where are the killers.

Ted is faster than me. He tries to grab me, stretching his arm forward, but someone hits him and they both roll on the ground. A cannibal just saved my life from a serial killer.

Now... I'm a really polite and nice girl, but right now, oh no, today the world can burn and I wouldn't raise a finger to help to extinguish the flames. I turn to the two men that are loudly discussing. "Hey!" I call them and their heads snap, immediately finding the target: me. "Goodbye, motherfuckers!" I raise my middle fingers and run away, laughing hysterically.

Breathless, I start walking until I find a little circular space empty of trees, lighted by the full moon. I enter it and look at the sky. It's wonderful, it makes me feel in peace with the universe. "Dylan, Eric, if you are listening to me... I won't disappoint you. If these people chasing me are victims, just like you, I swear I'll help them and do everything to give them the love that they craved when they were still innocent. I will find a way to make them listen to me, think about my words and understand I'm at their side. I will make them happy and-" I fall on the ground as something huge hit me. I turn to see what I expected: The Night Stalker. "You bastard-" His kick hit my jaw and my head flies back. I let myself fall on the soft grass, coughing up blood, struggling to breathe. My clogged, hissing breathing almost convince me I'm going to die in a few seconds, suffocated by my own blood flowing in my lungs.

"Let me take your innocence and I'll let you live." His raspy voice threatens me.

I just stay on the ground and wait. I hear him doing something with the knife for a few minutes while my breaths go back normal, then I force myself to stay down as he turns me and bend my wrists with a piece of cloth.

When I see him unfastening his trousers, I raise on my knees. "I'm sorry."

He laughs. "For what?"

"For whatever you've been through. I know you don't just start to want to kill people overnight. Life's a bitch and no one has the freedom to judge you or blame you for what you do. They can't understand our pain, they don't even try, they just accuse us to be monsters. But we're not. We're just humans and we can't keep all the pain inside. I'm sorry for you, I don't blame you for what you're doing and I hope it will bring you some peace..." I see a glimpse of sadness, relief, even astonishment in his eyes. Hope. He's self-aware. "...but you can't expect me to just wait for you to hurt me. I will fight 'till the end." All the emotions I saw in his eyes disappear in a second.

"I don't care about people, nor myself. Not anymore. I won't let you live, it's too late to fix someone like me. But I must admit that you're right on serial killers, they are a product of the times and these are bloodthirsty times. A serial killer comes about by circumstances and a recipe: poverty, drugs, child abuse. These things contribute to a person's frustration and anger, and at some point in life, he explodes. It's been nice to meet someone that finally understands this, and care about it."

"It's never too late to stop falling and start flying. You can still find happiness and love. I know it's hard to use your wings, but you're not alone in this, you can grab my hand so it will be easier."

"I'm not intentioned to stop killing people, it's gratifying to me, it's the only thing that makes me feel good. Not happy, not joyful, not loved, just good. The necessity to be myself passes all moral barriers. I don't blame life or people or society for what I do, it's up to me choosing to keep the pain inside or be free. We've all got the power in our hands to kill, but most people are afraid to use it. The ones who aren't afraid, control life itself. I want to feel good because I've not been that lucky to born where happiness was waiting for me, probably happiness avoids me like I'm some sort of poison that may kill it. I chose to open the red door, that's it. I don't need help, I didn't give up to the evil, I chose to be evil."

"No. Nobody chose pain. You just had no choice, you needed to feel good and you found pleasure only in... the bad things you do. Please, let me help you..."

He glares at me with his dark predator's eyes. "You don't understand me. You are not expected to. You are not capable. I am beyond your experience. I am beyond good and evil. I will be avenged. Lucifer dwells in all of us. Legions of the night, night breed, repeat not the errors of the night prowler and show no mercy." His growling, raspy voice spits pure hate.

"Y-you can still st-stop..." I stammer, shaking like a leaf.  _ Is this the end? Am I gonna die? Will it be painful? _

He shakes his head, then he jumps on me. As I feel his boner on my pussy, just a piece of cloth separating them, I can't look him in the eyes anymore. My body feels weaker, it shakes harder, but I fight with all my strength and courage, slapping and pushing away his arms and body. When he stops pushing me down to take off his pants, I punch him on the nose, then on the lips. His head doesn't fly back as I thought. He touches his lips with his thumb, observes the blood on it and then licks it. With the same hand, he punches my head one time. Two. Three.

I open my eyes. As he pushes his forearm on my neck to keep me down, I remember what's happening and realize I passed out.

"Last chance, baby girl: ride or die... literally!" He threatens. The fear completely overwhelms me.

"So you are the Night Stalker." Hearing his name, the Night Stalker's head snaps back. Behind him there are Ted Bundy and Jeff.

"Yea, I'm the Night Stalker." He stands up, his fingers turning white wrapped around the knife that he shows off. "Who the fuck are you?"

I stare at the full moon, lighting me, listening to their words.

"I'm Ted Bundy. I killed..."

"I know who you are. I heard about you."

There's a moment of silence. I raise my head and I see them staring at each other with a straight face. Well, what can two killers do when they meet? Boast about their crimes? I don't think so, especially if they're not proud of what they do. They aren't monsters, their kills are a mean to an end, not an act of pure evil.

"Who are you?" The Night Stalker points his knife at Jeff.

"I'm Jeffrey Dahmer. I'm a cannibal, but nobody knows. Not yet." His voice is calm and cold, it breaks the tension that the Night Stalker's raspy, loud voice filled with anger creates with the same irate voice of Ted.

"What do you want?" The Night Stalker asks.

Dahmer points at me. "The girl."

"You'll have to search for another meal, man. She's mine."

Jeff takes a few steps back, evidently uninterested in fighting for me. Meanwhile, I slowly stand up behind the Night Stalker's shadow, his body completely covering me.

"No way! She's mine. I want her fucking head in my car before the dawn." Ted protests, pointing his fingers at the black-haired devil. I take a few steps back.

"All right. Come here and take it!" The Night Stalker bends his knees, ready to attack Ted.

I take another step back. I've almost reached the darkness of the wood, just a few more steps and I'll be safe. The bar must be close. The men keep discussing while I keep walking backward.

"Can I have the body? Or just a piece of it?" Jeff asks.

"I kill her, you take the body and you take the head." The Night Stalker states. Ted nods. "Ok, then we need to destroy the evidence. She's mine, I'll do it."

"No, she's my victim." Ted protests.

"No, because I'll kill her. It's my territory." The devil says. Jeff sighs: he's such a mood...

Suddenly a thought comes to my mind. I can't keep it in.  _ Don't say it, don't, no...  _ "That's not how I thought men would fight for me."

Jeff hides his laughs with coughs, but the devil laughs loudly. They seem so normal... I struggle to believe they are going to kill me and this is reality, not just a nightmare.

Unluckily, Ted isn't even smiling. He's looking at me, his fists clenched. "Take her, idiots!" He shouts.

In an instant, the Night Stalker and Dahmer start running towards me. I turn and immediately stop myself before I can take a step and hit my face on the tree in front of me. I turn back to see where the men are and the Night Stalker's hands immediately land on my shoulders and push me against the tree. Dahmer and Bundy calmly walk to us, stopping just at the devil's sides, behind him. They're so close I can feel their warm breath on my face. The devil's lips parts in an evil smile.

"I wouldn't do that." Everybody turns to see from who the feminine, deep voice comes from.  _ Aileen? _ "Don't touch my girl."

"Who the fuck is this whore?" The devil asks.

"Name's Aileen Wuornos, bastard. I'm one of you, monsters. A serial killers. And I swear the reason I'm not in prison yet is the woman you're trying to kill. If you don't wanna be helped, nobody cares, but let her live. She's one of the few angels in this world that doesn't deserve its cruelty."

"You are a serial killer?" I ask, shocked.

She looks at me with her usual tired gaze, dried of every emotion. "I'm a prostitute and I used to kill every motherfucker that harassed me, then I met you. The joy you bring me every day helps me to accept the reality and try to live a normal life. I let men scratch my skin, use me like a doll or something, pull my hair and anything that hurts me and they like. I just let them do whatever the fuck makes them horny, because you keep the hope to find love alive in me, and everyday I feel closer to find a good job, a lover and have a family in a nice house. I thought your happiness was a gift, but when I knew your life isn't perfect at all I understood that there's no gift, you're just like me, but stronger. No matter what happens to you, you always stay positive and gift happiness, love and hope to the monsters that nobody wants to help. You're a beautiful creature. I won't let anyone destroy you."

The Night Stalker pushes his knife on my neck. "How would you help me?" He whispers.

"I would analyze your past, understand your feelings and find the reason or the feeling that make you commit your crimes. I will help you to have a normal life, find happiness and love. I know it sounds an horrible summary of psychological change, but it's much more. Feelings are the key. My goal is to heal you, freeing you from your pain or whatever causes or caused it. Ok?" I take long, deep breaths, trying to look in his eyes.

"Don't." Aileen appears at his shoulders and grabs his arm. I feel the lame getting away from my skin. The killers seems hesitant and I don't miss the chance to escape the nightmare.

I immediately move away, then run in the wood as fast as I can. The adrenaline fades away, every cut, bruise and muscle in my body hurts, but I don't let myself stop in the darkness.

_ Where do I go? Home _ . I must go home, get locked in it and never get out of there again. I can't deal with the hate of the world. I failed to help. I'm a monster. I'm gonna go to sleep. Forever. I will never wake up again, I can't survive to this world.

I hold the tears, thinking about Aileen finding my corpse. I should have hugged her one last time instead or running away like a coward and live her alone with three male killers.  _ Just a little cut on the right artery and I'll be gone. Dead. I'm sorry Aileen, I failed, I deserve the worst penalty in hell, to see Dylan and Eric die again and again in front of my eyes. I should have saved them. I promised them I would've helped people like them before it was too late, but I failed, again. I'm a useless angel. Goodbye. _

**Who's your favorite? Richie, Ted or Jeff?**


	8. Innocent Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria: I'm finally safe! Now I can kill myself in peace and end this stupid fucking story!  
> Me, the most horrible person in the world: So you wanna kill yourself? Great plot twist... but you know what's better?  
> Victoria: DON'T-  
> Me: Yes, I'll make them find you and... plot twist! You know what I'm talking about, Vicky. ;)  
> Victoria: I hate you.

_ No escape... _

I hoped to feel safe, seeing home, but my house now seems just another place to go back to my nightmare. I can't wait to die.

I take a knife from the kitchen and press it on my throat. My fingers sweat and move around the handle of my weapon.  _ I can't let Aileen find my dead body, I can't do this to her. If I close all the windows and the doors she'll call the police, unable to access the house.  _ I hurry to do it, checking every room.  _ Did I forget any door? The window in my bedroom!  _ It's broken, but it stays closed if the weather isn't apocalyptic and the wind is calm. I run up to my bedroom. I open the door and take a few steps in it, then freeze.

His wavy black hair is unmistakable. He's sitting on the opened window's sill, right in front of me, smoking marijuana. The moonlight lights his black figure: he's wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a black t-shirt. The Night Stalker turns to me, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes.

I jump as I head the door shutting close behind me. I bend my arms, putting my hands on my pounding heart, watching the cannibal that just trapped me in my own house. My hissing breath is clearly loud, my legs feel weaker, but I'm so close to passing out that I can't hear my breath nor feel tired of standing, the terror slowly possessing my whole body. Dahmer takes a sip from a bottle of vodka, then crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, silently asking me:  _ are you really surprised?  _ Whichever was their choice, kill me or let me live, they would have come back. We are bent forever, they had my life in their hands and they still have it, there's no way I can escape from them... unless I escape from myself.

Turning to the Night Stalker, I see Ted in a dark corner of the room with a creepy smile, holding a knife.

The Night Stalker takes the knife with which he injured me, looks at it and lick my blood from it. A strange feeling makes me dizzy and weirdly hot on this cold night. The mixture of deep feelings storming in me is lethal.

The Night Stalker totally clean the knife with his tongue. "We decided to give you a chance. Do whatever the fuck you need to help us with your love, or your pussy, whatever is better for us. Just be sure to do it well enough to convince us not to kill anymore, because if you don't, you'll be our next victim, baby girl."

The Night Stalker smiles, but his smile turns into an angry expression as he sees me pressing a knife on my neck. "You were right. Sometimes it's just too late." I say, holding the tears.

The Night Stalker takes a few lazy steps towards me.

"Don't get closer or..." I think of a threat, but nothings he may care about comes to my mind.

"Or what?" He humiliates me, stopping right in front of me. My heart goes crazy, I feel it pounding in my throat like he's gonna break my skin and jump out of my body.

The devil's hand grabs the wrist of the hand I'm holding the knife with. He's hand is just enormous, his fingers wrapped around my little wrist are like warm, soft bracelets... but they are not bracelets, bracelets don't feel dominant nor strong. I wonder if he wanna try to convince me to live for an egoistic purpose of redemption, then he starts tightening the grip. I can already see the skin of my wrist becoming purple in my mind. He slowly crushes my wrist. I try to resist, keeping the knife in my hand, until I open my mouth and almost cry for the pain. My trembling hand leaves my only weapon that falls at our feet.

I raise my head and meet his shark eyes. His darkness crushes me in a second and I burst out crying and shaking like a leaf. Everything I can do it look at my feet and try to not fall on the ground. The Night Stalker left hand frees my wrist and his fingertips trace the shape of my arm to my shoulder where they stop to pull me against his chest, his right hand caresses my head while I wet his shirt with my tears, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Ssh. It's ok, I won't hurt you. Calm down, baby girl." He whispers in my ear. I keep sobbing and shaking violently, letting my body free itself from all the pain.

I feel incredibly weak and a deep sadness is consuming me like a potent virus, making me tired and draining me from any positivity and hope. But I won't let it win. I have another chance, I can't waste it and delude Dylan and Eric again. I must fight to keep my love strong and alive as much as my bond to Aileen, I can do it.

The Night Stalker, described as an infamous heartless killer, holds me in his arms and guides me to my bed where I sit in his tight hug. Tight enough to make me feel safe, but not enough to hurt me in any way.

I look up and for a second I see the eyes of a lovely man genuinely smiling at me.  _ He's not a monster _ .

"Hey." Jeffrey hands me a glass of water. I raise my hand to take it, noticing they're trembling way too much. I need to calm down, contemplate the quietness. The black-haired man takes the glass and helps me drink the water, then he cuddles me like a baby girl. He keeps going for a few minutes. This is one of the best sensations I've ever felt in my life, being so tired and feel my heart so light it seems it's flying. Is it how you feel when you find peace after the war? I always knew love would have given me incredible sensations, I'm glad the moment to feel them has come. There's not any ground to hit: I'm not falling, I'm flying.

"We need your help. I need you, Victoria." The Night Stalker's deep voice relaxes me. But I can't sleep now.

I force myself to leave his strong, warm arms and walk to the kitchen. Their steps behind me make me anxious. As we arrive in the kitchen, they sit at the table.  _ It's finished, I'm not gonna die, not today _ . I open all the windows and let the moonlight light my home, then I sit with the men, at Jeff's side. The Night Stalker is in front of me and Ted Bundy is in front of Jeffrey.

"O-ok, l-let-t's d-do it." I manage to say. I can barely talk, how do I help them?

Jeff puts his arm on my shoulders and I look at him. He gives me a little smile, starting in my eyes, confident. I sigh and lay my head on his shoulder.

"I support you in your mission. Nobody wants to help people like us. Aileen is right, you're an angel. I hope you'll manage to help us, saving us from ourselves or the society or the world or the law or whatever, and I wish the best for us all. I know that killing is wrong and I wanna stop."

"Speak for yourself." The Night Stalker interrupts him and I try to ignore it to not have another panic attack.

After a few needed minutes of peaceful silence, I look at all of them in the eyes. Ted and Jeff seem calm, maybe a little bored, and the Night Stalker looks at me with diffidence, narrowing his eyes. He seems distant, he's not the man that was hugging me before.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

He crosses his arms and clenches his jaw. It won't be easy to enter his mind, let alone his heart. "I'm Ricardo... Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker."

"All right, Mr. Ramirez. Let's start with your past."


	9. The Night Stalker

_ Hopeless... _

"I'm the last one of five children, and I'm the wicked one. My mother worked in a factory during the pregnancy and she's been exposed to dangerous toxins that damaged me. The world already decided my life should have been hell. I suffered two head injuries: one when I was two years old because a dresser fell on me while I was just trying to reach a stupid radio to dance, one when I was five because a swing hit me and knocked me unconscious. The first injury on my forehead required thirty fucking stitches, the other was worse. I had surgery and after that, I started having frequent epileptic seizures. At school life wasn't easy, but neither was it at home. When I was a kid, my father beated the shit out of me whenever he was angry and I started sleeping in the local cemetery in El Paso to avoid him. My home soon became the one of my cousin, a Green Beret combat veteran, until he got arrested. He used to show me polaroids of the women he raped in the Vietnam War, their bodies and severed heads. That's when my fantasy started, despite I knew that was something wrong and considered horrible. Violence started mixing with pleasure and it was weird, but I liked the sensation and the thoughts I had, so I didn't care to stop them just because people didn't like them. I was free, like my cousin. One day, he shot his wife, a woman that I knew very well and considered part of the family, right in the face. I saw everything. The minute before she was screaming at him, the minute after she was bleeding on the floor, dead. I was twelve. I started smoking marijuana with him too. At twelve I also fucked a prostitute for the first time; my actual first time with a woman has been with an eighteen years old neighborhood girl, I was nine. When I was in high school, I started working in a hotel. I had a passkey, robbing clients was easy and I kept doing it to sell their valuables and buy drugs, until I tried to make my fantasies real. I was going to rob a couple, I thought they were out, but the woman was in the room. I tried to rape her. I almost did it, that bastard of her husband beated me unconscious. My family was religious, but I became Satanist, because... I felt his power within me and... why worship the good guy if the things you do aren't so good? I dropped school in ninth grade and at age twenty-two I moved to California. That's when everything started. I became the Night Stalker. I'm the proverbial boogie man, invading bedrooms in the middle of the night and tearing innocent people from their dreams. I'm proud of the name I made for myself, not that I care about all the attention journals gives me. I just like who I am and what I do. Satan is within me. That's it."

I try to stay neutral despite my heart is shattered and all its ceramic pieces are tearing and destroying the rest of my organs. "Ok, thank you for sharing these important details of your past with me. Now, Mr. Bundy, tell me about the most relevant events of your past."


	10. The Lady Killer

Bundy sighs. "My complete name is Theodore Bundy and I'm born in Vermont on November 24."

"I was born on February 29 and never had a part for my birthday," Richard says with a sad smile. Meeting my eyes full of sadness, he turns cold, crossing his arms. "Not that I care."

"Don't interrupt me, please," Theodore says.

The two exchange a killer's eye. I patiently wait, hoping that they won't start a fight and ruin everything. They don't. Bundy comes back to focus on me, ignoring Ramirez keep staring at him with his  _ I will kill you _ expression, and talks. "I wasn't a wanted baby. My mother gave me to my grandparents and I believed they were my parents and my mother was my sister for a long time. I discovered both the identity of my father and that my mom wasn't my sister by myself. That woman should have told me the truth... I will never forget her. My grandmother was a nice woman, silent and obedient. She had some mental problems, but she was ok. My grandfather was a great man, I always identified with him and respected him. Sometimes he was violent, throwing my auntie down the stairs, beating grandma, being a tyrannical bully that speaks aloud... but he wasn't that bad after all. It's not relevant anyway. What's relevant, maybe, it's when my auntie woke up surrounded by knives. I took them from the kitchen and I've waited for her to wake up, staring at her sleeping with a smile. I know, it's kinda creepy." He laughs, absorbed by his thoughts. "Later my mother married a man that tried to be my father. He actually believed I would have accepted him. I just kept the distances: he wasn't very bright and didn't make much money. When I was a teen, I started searching for porns with violence in the trash and spying girls undressing. People shuddered when reading about rape and any sexual activity practices with violence. I never did. As a teen, I didn't understand interpersonal relationships and I chose to stay alone. What makes people become friends? I couldn't answer this question. I started stealing equipment to practice the only sport I liked, downhill skiing, and at eighteen I also tried to steal some cars and else just to try something new. Before starting to kill, I frequented some universities and has many jobs like the bodyguard, the lawyer, the assistant, the politician, and I worked at a suicide hotline. I had many relationships with many women, also at the same time. I broke up with one just before the marriage just for vengeance. She had rejected me before. I still can't believe she did... Soon after that, I started killing. I never admitted what I did until now. I killed so many people I don't even remember all their names despite the importance my victims have for me. Then you know what happened. I got arrested, I escaped, I got married to a beautiful woman I hope to see soon, I escaped and I finally got free."

"Maybe it's better that you're sure you won't make you separate again for your crimes before meeting your love again. You don't want to break her heart, right?"

"It will be hard, but I want to do my best to be a better man and understand love."

"Great. Now... Mr. Dahmer, tell me-"

"I'm born on May 21." Dahmer starts, talking fast but calmly. "My family was really religious. I have a brother. I hope to see them again and I wanna be a better person for them. I want it to end, even if it means my own destruction."


	11. The Milwaukee Cannibal

"You shouldn't destroy yourself, your family wouldn't be happy if you do. You're not a monster."

"I feel guilty and I can't find any meaning for my poorly spent life. I don't think I'm capable of creating anything. I think the only thing I'm capable of is destroying; I'm sick and tired of being destructive. What worth is life if you can't be helpful to someone?"

"Mr. Dahmer..."

"Call me Jeffrey, please. Anyway... when I was a kid, I didn't get much attention from my family. Not that I blame them, the only person you should blame for the crimes is me. I'm glad you're giving me a second chance, Katrina; your help is of inestimable importance for me. Anyway... my mother had some mental problems and she attempted suicide. I was still a happy child, until I had a double hernia surgery shortly before my fourth birthday. Something changed in me, it's been a hard time. My parents started arguing a lot and at school I was quiet and reserved, but I had a few friends. Since I was young I liked to see how animals fitted together. I hard to search for carcasses on the road and dismember them and keep the parts in jars. One day I decapitated a dead dog, nailed his body to a tree and impaled his skull. I started liking the sound the bones make, I was thrilled by that as much as I was fascinated by the carcasses. My father started being concerned by my loneliness and lethargic attitude, but my interest in science was a good thing, he thought. So he taught me to preserve animals' bones. In high school nothing changed but the fact that I became an alcoholic, I discovered I was gay and I became a clown in class. I started having my first fantasies about dominating and controlling a completely submissive partner. I had a rape fantasy of rendering unconscious a jogger I liked, so one day I waited for him with a baseball bat, but that day he didn't come. I never tried that again, not on him. I was apathetic, my bad grades declined even more because of alcohol. I started to searching for attention, faking epileptic seizures and knocking over items. My parents divorced and I kept drinking. Then... I started killing. It's hard for me to believe that a human being could have done what I've done, but I know that I did it."


	12. Moral of the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katrina tries to help her new friends... while they try not to kill her.  
> Bundy doesn't look dangerous, but monsters don't look like monsters.  
> Dahmer is a big guy, but in the deep he's just a funny kid.  
> Ramirez seems the most aggressive, but his bark is worse than his bite.

_A second chance..._

I need to take a glass of water. Now it comes the worst part. "Ok guys. Now I need you to tell me about your crimes and your feelings about them. Go back to these moments. What's the worst of Richard Ramirez, Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer?"

"You look like you're gonna vomit." Ramirez says, smiling.

"I'm ok. Let's start with you."

"All right. My first killing was a nine-year-old girl. I raped and beated her, then stabbed her to death and hanged her body from a pipe. After that I adopted a modus operandi: I use to stalk my victims in the night until they went to bed, then I sneak into their houses, kill any man in the home, lock the children somewhere and search for valuables in the house with the help of the women that I use. I like to handcuff, rape and sodomize, humiliate, beat and kill them in different ways. I'm not saying it's necessarily funny for me, I just sexually enjoy it. Many of my victims are old, fat grannies. I like them. The oldest was eighty-three; I bound, bludgeoned and shocked her with an electrical cord after driving to her home with a stolen Mercedes Benz and bending and bludgeoning her sister with a hammer. Then I raped the old woman and draw a pentagram with her sister's lipstick on her tight and the bedrooms' walls. One time I stabbed a woman and slashed her throat so deeply I almost decapitated her. She was asleep, she didn't get scared like the two roommates I killed. They were terrified, and I still can't say if I liked their fear. Actually, I think I just don't care, I don't care about anything during the attacks if it doesn't sexually arouse me. Victims are like objects. One time I cut the eyes of a woman and kept them, just because she didn't want to stop looking at me and tried to shoot me. I think I love to be bad. That's what everybody says. _The Night Stalker loves killing and spreading terror, hurting people and making a name to himself in the world_. I'm evil and I never denied it. That's what I am now, I can't go back. I would like to be totally heartless, but I'm not despite the pleasure and amusement I find in my crimes. At least I'm free: I've never been afraid to kill nor be myself, I control life itself. Nobody can tell me what to do or how to feel, freedom is being yourself and not being what you're expected or supposed to be."

"But this is what you're doing. People say you're a monster and that's what you would like to be. You're not born a monster, you've not chosen to be a monster and you're right, you can’t go back, but you can change. You have a second chance. You're not yourself, you don't like to hurt people, you do it because of your sexual needs but that's not good for no one and you can find pleasure in other ways. You would have never found it in violence if only you wouldn't have lived all the traumatic experiences you talked about."

"I can't forget them."

"But you can live them again in your mind and change your feelings about it. When you'll find pleasure in good things, it will be easier to stop finding pleasure in the polaroids of your cousin."

"Why should I stop being evil? Evil always existed, the perfect world some people believe in doesn't exist and..."

"It's not gonna get worse, if you help yourself and change your way of perceiving violence. Violence is bad. Change your sexual thoughts and we'll have less pain in the world. I know this sounds hard, but you did it when your cousin showed you the pics, you can do it again."

Ramirez nods, clearly disinterested.

"Mr. Bundy?"

"I mastered the necessary skills to eliminate every evidence from the crime scenes when I was a teen, then I started killing. I use to fascinate women with my charm or just ask them for help, then hit them unconscious and kill them. I usually keep using their bodies until it's impossible because of the decomposition process. Sometimes I dress them and apply makeup on their pretty faces. My victims are mainly young students. About students: there were some of them that had some intellectual capacity I didn't have, discovering that at law school destroyed me. Some classes were incomprehensible to me, it was disappointing, almost devastating. During that time I killed a lot of people and I had many relationships with dozens of women at the same time."

"Why did you kill some women and love others?"

"I needed an apparently normal life. And the women I knew in my normal life were the ones I could only love. That was just another side of me. The dark side... it was hidden. The women I catch with my charm, they know only that part and they are destined to die. I don't have a modus operandi to kill the girls, but I usually make them unconscious to take them in an isolated place, then strangle them or drown them or else and consume a sexual rapport with the dead body, coming back to them to have sex with the bodies again and again. About religion, I'm a Methodist, it's the religion of my childhood. I killed many of my victims in my Volkswagen Beetle, where I have a kit to kill my victims. You saw that. I have some post-mortem rituals, but nothing that repeats itself."

"Mmh." That's the only sound that my vocal cords make as I think that the descriptions of their crimes are the descriptions of my possible future death. "Mr... Jeffrey?"

"I was eighteen when I committed my first murder, just a few weeks after my graduation. I invited a boy at my place and after drinking and listening to music he wanted to leave. The only problem was that... I didn't want him to. I bludgeoned him with a 10 lb dumbbell three times. He fell unconscious on a chair and I strangled him to death with the bar of the dumbbell. I undressed him and masturbated, standing above the corpse. The next day I dismembered his body in my basement and buried the remains in the backyard before, some weeks later, unearthing the remains and paring the flesh from the bones. I dissolved the flesh in acid and flushed the solution down the toilet. To crush his bones, I used a sledgehammer. I then scattered them in the wood. After that, I frequented a university that I left after three months to keep drinking liquor all day, then I became a combat medic. During that time, I raped two soldiers: one didn't fight, the other needed some drugs to give me pleasure. After that, I had some legal issues because of alcohol, but I didn't spend many days in prison. My father tried to help me, I tried to help myself, but I couldn't stop doing the wrong things and making the wrong choices despite I knew what I was doing was wrong. I don't think you can kill someone and think it's right. People tried to help me, don't blame them for my crimes."

"I don't. But I don't blame you neither."

"I blame myself. I don't know how will I get over it and be able to find peace for myself. After my alcohol problems and the consequences of these, I found some jobs. For some time I actually lived upon my grandmother's tips. I've been arrested for indecent exposure in front of some women and children in a park. I worked in a chocolate factory, stole a mannequin to masturbate on it and started to frequent gay bars and gay bathhouses. A mannequin was surely better than the bodies I cooked then to masturbate, but... I couldn't help, I killed other people just for sexual purposes. Frequenting relaxing gay bars, I met many men and had occasional sex with them, but I didn't like that they move. I see my victims as objects, so I started giving them sleeping pills and sedatives with liquors. Later, I also tried to steal a fresh dead corpse to have sex with it, but the soil was hard and I couldn't take the coffin. After that, I accidentally... I masturbated in front of a boy. I've been condemned to one year of probation. I think that since that time I wasn't really aware of what I was doing. Then I started killing for real, in the most brutal ways. The first victim of the monster Jeffrey Dahmer was a man that I wanted to drug and rape. I did it, and when I woke up... he was lying in the bed with me, his chest crushed in and black and blue with bruises. There was blood at the corner of his mouth and my fists and one forearm we're full of bruises. I killed him, but I have no memory of it. I still can't believe that happened. I dismembered the body. I destroyed every part of it and trashed it, but I kept the head. I kept it in a blanket for two weeks, then I boiled it in a mixture of substances and kept the skull to masturbate on it. After some time, I pulverized it and kept using it. My modus operandi is probably drugging the victims, abusing them and strangling them or vice versa, no matter if they were straight. I treated almost every victim like the first one, but the next times I was completely aware of what I was doing and I perfectly remember it. May I ask what's your youngest victims?"

"My first victim was the youngest. She was just nine." Ramirez says.

"I killed a twelve-year-old girl," Ted confesses.

"I killed a thirteen-year-old boy," Dahmer continues. "I asked him to pose nude for me and he accepted. He was my fourth victim. After some time, I also started to take pictures of the victims in certain positions. I also tried some other ways to conserve their bodies, some worked, some didn't. I made a skull explode. I like to keep their skeleton, to remember how they were. I think I went crazy for some time, I lived in my fantasy world. I kissed and talk with a severed head. I also started eating the guys, to keep them with me. After many kills, I stopped for five months. I've become anxious, depressed and had suicidal thoughts. Then I started again. I kept drinking, conserving the body and ignoring people lamenting about the bad smell from my apartment, and I made some experiments on the victims. I made holes in their skulls while they were drugged and poured acids in those. I wanted them to be alive, but under my complete control. My best experiment survived two years, in a coma. I killed seventeen people in total."

"I killed over thirty women," Bundy says, neutral.

"I killed thirteen people. For now." Ramirez informs us.

I nod, listening closely and analyzing every word they say and anything I can observe and study to help them. "Mr. Ramirez, your reason to kill is pleasure. Can you confirm this?"

"Yea. Killing is the ultimate thrilling. I love to kill people. I love to watch them die. I would shoot them in the head and they would wiggle and squirm all over the place, and then just stop. Or I would cut them with a knife and watch their faces turn real white. I love all that blood. I had an orgasm while thrusting a knife in a woman's chest. That's why I mutilated their bodies after they were dead."

"Enough, thanks." I stop him, trying to slow my breath. "Mr. Bundy, your reason to kill is pain. It's an act of infinite revenge made in name of the hope to change the past and have the woman that refused you."

"I don't know how you came at this conclusion, but you're right. It's like a curse: I just need to kill them, and come back to them and cry them. Like I loved them. Like they are her. And I need to abuse them, because... how could they do that to me? Refusing me, forcing me to hurt them... They don't refuse me, but she did, and they are her, and... I feel like I have no choice but to repeat what I wish I've done with her, what I can't do to her because a part of me, the part that has a normal life, stops me whenever I think about it. I'm in a loop, I do what I want to do in another world and my world doesn't change as I want, so my dark side keeps doing bad things to change the normal world in the other world, on the other women."

"Ok, I think I caught that. Jeffrey, your reason to kill is a necessity. You want to be in control and you became obsessed, dependent on the act of killing and eating men to satisfy your fantasy of completely possessing and controlling someone like he's just a part of you, hoping to keep the person with you as long as possible."

"I couldn't say it better. Yes."

"Ok. Does anybody has an idea of why have you started committing your crimes?"

Ramirez raises his hand. "I started not caring about myself and people when I felt like if I was dead or alive didn't make any difference for no one, me neither. I gave up on love and happiness a long time ago."

"You were desperate, you couldn't keep that pain inside anymore. You had nothing to lose and you needed to feel good to survive, so you found pleasure only in the killing. You had no choice, you didn't know any other way to be somewhat like happy."

Ramirez surprisingly nods. "People blow up. Nobody sees, nobody cares, nobody helps. When it's too much, you can't keep it in anymore. That's it."

"I'm sure you will find love and happiness, Mr. Ramirez."

"How? I don't even know what they are. Who wants to make a monster happy?"

"Me. And you're not a monster."

"This is a dangerous path, Victoria."

"I know, but this is my vocation. I love to love. You need me, remember it?"

We stare in each other eyes for a while. I feel like watching a sea which waves violently hit my legs and go back, then wet just my feet in a massage. Ramirez seems suddenly calm, relieved. He looks down, letting his torment shows itself in his sad eyes.

I look away. "Ok. Have you got any idea of why are your crimes so gruesome and sexual?"

Ramirez comes out of his thoughts. "Being dominant is in men's nature. I know what I do is evil, but the power of the pleasure of having a woman under your control because of intense fear and pain is priceless. By the way, the main reason of my crimes isn't sexual pleasure, I just love to be evil. Maybe you're right, it's not my fault, it's not my choice, but that's what I am, what I want to be and what I like to be. I hope you'll manage to stop me... for your own sake. I like blood. I love killing!"

Bundy nods. "I have known people who… radiate vulnerability. Their facial expressions say ‘ _I am afraid of you_ ’. These people invite abuse… by expecting to be hurt, they subtly encourage it. When you feel the last bit of breath leaving their body, you're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God! But murder is not just a crime of lust or violence. It becomes possession. They are part of you... The victim becomes a part of you, and you two are forever one... and the grounds where you kill them or leave them become sacred to you, and you will always be drawn back to them."

Jeffrey melodramatically sighs. "Looking back at my life, I know I made them suffer as much as I suffered. I had these obsessive desires and thoughts

wanting to control people, to possess them permanently. It's a process, it doesn't happen overnight, when you depersonalize another person and view them as just an object. An object for pleasure and not a living breathing human being. It seems to make it easier to do things you shouldn't do."

"All right guys... Now, let me tell you something. You're not monsters, you are humans. You are or have been good people that made bad decisions and hurt innocent people, but you did it because someone did the same with you. Nature and society decided who you are, and they made a huge mistake that we need to fix for them and for yourselves. I think you've been unhappy, in a lot of pain. You didn't deserve it. You deserve to be loved and happy, and being good at that point will be a consequence. I'll make you see the light in the darkness. When you're free, it's easier to know and be yourself. You need to free yourself from pain, wrong desires and obsessions. I'll do my best to help you to be the best version of yourself. Meanwhile, you should try to contain yourself."

"Are you Christian?" Jeffrey asks.

"No, I'm an atheist."

"So why do you wanna help us?" Ramirez asks. "It won't buy you a place in heaven."

"When you're surrounded by happiness, pain rarely comes to disturb you. I want to make people happy today, I don't need to pray to unconditionally love and I love, so tomorrow my children won't get killed by unhappy people."

"Sounds right," Bundy says.

"Alright. So, what's the deal?"

"Force yourself to not kill and I'll help you to get rid of your pain and find happiness."

"I accept," Jeffrey says.

"I'm in." Bundy follows.

Ramirez stares at me with his predator's eyes. I patiently wait for his answer. "How do we start?"

I smile to him and he replies with a barely noticeable smirk. "Let's do a little ritual. You should burn all the photos of your victims that you keep with you."

"What about the bodies?" Jeffrey asks.

I shudder. "Let them rest in peace, wherever they are. Just take the polaroids."

Jeffrey drops his last polaroid into the fireplace, then I finally can move my hand away from my eyes as the fire burns it. Their bad memories and past secrets are now ashes, or at least a part of them.

"So, who's bad?" Jeffrey asks.

"Mh?" What is he talking about?

"We are bad because bad people and nature's mistakes made us bad. Who's evil? There must be someone evil."

"Sure there is, but you shouldn't necessarily be evil to hurt someone. It's actually easy to hurt people without even noticing it, that's why we need limits."

"There must be someone that started everything. A human monster." Ramirez insists.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. He glares at me and his gaze sends a shiver up my spine. I'm sure the fear is visible in my eyes and Ramirez notices it, because he looks away and the sea in his eyes turns calm again. "Don't fear me, for now. I won't hurt you as long as I'll think you're useful. I don't like to see the fear in your eyes, you radiate vulnerability. It's like you're inviting me to hurt you." He sighs in front of my paralyzing terror. "Please, answer my question. Who's bad?"

I shake my head, trying to make my brain work. "Yes. I believe there are human monsters, but they are very rare exceptions and it's not your case. I have three examples of humans monsters: a woman that forced her children to kill and eat each others, the author of Daisy's destruction and the killers of Junko Furuta. I'm not gonna say more about these people, I won't even say their names, I just want you to know that you're not monsters because you aren't born evil like them. Your actions have a cause, you did what you did for a reason that may be pain, duty, profit, love, hate, pleasure, even fun or whatever. They did it just because they are pure evil and they can't be saved."

"What about Al Capone or Pablo Escobar?" Bundy asks.

"They are another category. The entrepreneurs' one. They run an illegal business and make money on people's pain, but, you know, sell drugs and be part of the Mafia isn't like torturing and killing a child without a reason. They aren't pure evil, they are part of a category per se. I think they are the definition of criminals, the role models of what should be really punished by the law."

"What about Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini? Whoever fights in war? The ones who sell kids and women as prostitutes too." Jeffrey asks.

"They are not angels. I think that, if there wasn't a hell, it's been created just for these kinds of people. They believed killing and torturing were just normal if done legally. It's inhuman."

"What about thieves? Pedophiles? Drug dealers and drug addicts?" Ramirez asks.

"It depends by the individuals, it depends by what's in their mind when they commit the crime: some people rape kids because they want pleasure from that and they don't care if they hurt someone doing what they want, some do it because they've been raped and they want to live the moment again to change the past. Some people are just bad, some are just in pain and pain makes you innocent. If being in pain is what causes you to do such a thing, how can you be guilty? Can you be guilty of being in pain? No. Thieves are the same. Drug dealers and drug addicts are the same, every person is different, the reasons for their actions are different. We could say that drug dealers are bad people, but some people sell drugs because they are forced to do it by a threat, or because they need money to not make their sons starve to death when the State can't help them. Everyone is different. Some serial killers are evil, some are in pain. It's the sad, cruel, unfair reality of this world. That's it."

"Is revenge considered something bad, wise woman?"

I laugh at Ramirez's question. "Not if you hurt only who hurt you with the same intensity, that is hard to do."

"Anything else we need to know?"

"Yes. First off, I wanna thank you for sharing your deepest thoughts, feelings and life with me. I'm honored, you gave me a second chance to do what I should have done a long time ago. You're also opening a door to the killers' minds to me, it's awesome. And... when someone narrates you one of his experiences with his soul, you live it with him and the intense feelings in the four of us that the narration gives us bend us. Your stories are now invisible chains between us." They look at me with a straight face. It's hard to understand how they feel about us, we'll need to spend some time together to trust each others and not hiding anything anymore. "It's a positive thing!" I say with too much enthusiasm, nodding.

Ramirez shrugs, raising an eyebrow. "So what?"

"Nevermind... I have another important thing to tell you. There are three categories of bad people: monsters, criminals and victims. You are victims of this society."

"Tell us something we don't know." Ramirez spits.

"Calm down, man. Victoria, please, tell us how to contain ourselves, because this is the principal problem now." Bundy says.

"Sure. You need to focus on something that entertains you and distracts you, something that you like as much as... killing." I struggle to elaborate and pronounce the last word.

"There's nothing I enjoy more than killing... maybe studying." Bundy starts.

"I don't like killing, I like... you know, be in control. I don't really know what else can I do, sex is the only positive thing I've ever found in life. And if I let myself approach a man... you know how it ends."

"All right, Jeffrey. Ramirez?"

"I like feet." It's all he says.

"Ew... I mean, I respect that, but... Well, I don't think this can help. I'm sure you'll find something to keep yourself busy, sir. Jeffrey, I'll personally help you. Come with me."

Jeffrey nods and follows me, but Ramirez steps in front of me, blocking the passage between the kitchen and the corridor.

"Any problem, Mr. Ramirez?" I ask. He unnerves me, but he scares me more. I'm gonna be nice with him in any case, he's probably the most dangerous one of the trio.

"You're injured."

I look at the cut on my arm. "Oh, it's nothing..."

"I'll take care of you." He grabs my arm and drags me to the bathroom.

"I'm a doctor," Jeffrey says.

"Mind your business, I made this cut." Ramirez threatens him, getting dangerously close to Jeffrey that doesn't seem afraid.

"I won't let you hurt her."

"You wanna fight, man?"

"Guys!" I put myself between them, pulling my arm to free myself from Ramirez's grip. He doesn't leave me as he stares at Jeffrey that does the same. "Stop it. Ramirez, you're not gonna hurt me, right?"

"No."

"Good. That's it. No need to fight, men. You're not looking strong, you're just ridiculizing yourself!"

"Watch your mouth, baby girl." Ramirez threatens.

I nod, pushing Jeffrey back. He finally meets my concerned gaze and steps back. Ramirez immediately turns and drags me away.

Pure Souls gets dirty easily.

**What do you think about Vicky's opinion on the three killers?**


	13. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katrina needs to rest, but it's not easy with three serial killers in her home.  
> Before that, Richard offered to help take care of her wounds. But it's hard to take care of an innocent girl when the sight of her blood makes you want to multiply those cuts she has.

I sit on the bathtub's border as the Night Stalker medicates the cut he made just a few minutes ago while he was trying to kill me. It's so absurd that it could be a joke, but it feels so good it could be a romantic scene of a movie.

I moan when he applies a substance on the injury before bandaging it. He frantically searches something in his pocket. He's totally focused on my cut and this calms me down a little, until I see the syringe his hand takes.

I jump up and he readily pushes me against the wall, like he did this a million times. He probably did.

"This will help with the pain." He opens the syringe and my heart skips a beat.

"It's not necessary, it's merely a flesh wound, I'm ok!" I breathe.

He rolls his eyes to my terror. "This is what I hate the most, the biggest mistake humanity makes every day: living in fear." I move forwards and he pushes myself against the wall, this time hard enough to hit my head. His stare tells me to not move again or something bad worse than an injection will happen to me.

I struggle to slow my breath as his fingers search for a vein in my arm, but it's useless because I stop breathing as soon as the needle punctures me. The relaxing effect is immediate as the tears that I hold. But I can't hold them for long and I sit on the floor hugging my legs and looking down, feeling the tears falling on my... naked body.  _ I'm still naked _ . I've been naked all the time. Why didn't I feel embarrassed while I was talking with the men? Why didn't they raped me? Whatever I'm doing to help them is working, but it's ruining me. My tears become a waterfall, a silent waterfall. I don't wanna make a sound, I don't want Ramirez to hear me, or at least I don't want to let myself realize he's staring at me while I'm crying like a child for too many reasons to even think about.

"I didn't want to be rude with you." A towel surrounds my body and I stop hiding to let Ramirez adjust the towel to cover all my sensitive parts. "I'm sorry." His tone is sweet, his eyes show an emotion I didn't know he was capable of feeling.  _ Remorse _ .

He almost looks like someone else. A sweet, nice guy. Surely not... him.

"Are you still the Night Stalker?"  _ Does he have a double personality? _

"I am. But I'm also Richard. Just Richard, just a guy, you know. I'm both. This is just me. Sometimes I hurt people, sometimes I take care of them, that's it."

"How can you look so normal?"

"You said that a million times, baby girl. Humans aren't monsters. It's not like in horror movies, we don't walk around like psychos with a knife and a creepy smile all day. We are born in a family, we have people we care about, we have a life. We talk, eat, feel... we are humans. The reason we don't look particularly creepy or different when we kill someone is because it's nothing special for us: nothing new, not a trauma, or at least not anymore. Killing became normal, so I look normal when I kill, because for me killing is like playing volleyball for you. Do you look weird after playing volleyball? You don't, you just did something you do every day, everything seems normal and you appear normal as usual."

"Normal. What a horrible word." I say, making us smile. "Don't worry about being rude, that's not what I meant when I said to contain yourself. Be yourself. It's ok if you're bad as long as you don't do anything illegal in the next days, maybe it's in your actual personality. Or your nature. We'll see when you'll be free. Anyway... bad people are needed. You remember me why I shouldn't play with fire."

He smiles, but this time his eyes express deep sadness.

"Are you ok, Richard?"

"I just... nevermind."

"No. Tell me, please. I need you to open with me."

He sighs. "People think I'm angry and my words are just evil words, but... they don't pay attention, they don't care. But you do, so let me repeat them to you." His dark eyes meet mines. "I gave up on love and happiness a long time ago. I don't care about myself, I don't care about what happens to me..." He stops and looks away.

"So why should you care about anyone else?"

"That's the question I make myself when my... pain turns into anger. When I react to stop the pain."

"I understand this. Past can't change, but... you can let it go. It happens naturally, when you're happy with your present." I hold my breath as I caress his cheek, feeling like I'm touching a dragon. He glances at me, then goes back in his thoughts. I release the oxygen in my lungs. He trusts me and I can trust him too, at least for now.

"I hope so..." He whispers, lost in his thoughts. "What do you think about doctors and the law?" He suddenly asks, breaking the silence and surprising me.

I can't help but go back to my past with both my mind and my heart. "I never had a good experience with them. They drastically change nature and you rarely find happiness after meeting them."

"Something tells me they've been an important part of your past."

"You're right. My father was a psychiatrist. I struggle to live in the present, because he's still alive and my past may come back to torment me again. He was such a monster... but I'm still trying to find a hint of something good in him. I know he will come back, he already did, and that day I hope I'll be able to make him say ' _ I love you, Victoria. _ ' Or kill him." I stop talking just to see Richard's expression. He's staring at me intensely, silent, listening. It's the first time I can't see judgment in someone's eyes when I start talking about my past and my ideals. It feels great. It's the first time I want to keep talking about the worst time of my life. "After Dylan and Eric's massacre, I understood that love can save us... but hate comes from love, the lack of it, and if my father will stay the monster he is he will win, because I'll be destroyed inside by him and become a monster too. I will put a bullet in his head without regret, hopeless. I need love too." I say the last words in a pathetic cry.

Richard, just the guy, raises me up in a tight hug. "We're not perfect, and it's ok. We will make it together."

Feeling calm in a few minutes, I place my head on his shoulder. "Richard, you think you're born evil, you say you're a wicked person in a wicked world where wicked people are born... but maybe you're born an angel and someone tore off your wings. Let's suppose you're not evil. Why would you want to be evil and completely heartless, as you said?"

I feel his muscles tensing against my body. "It's because I learned to like pain, and because this is how the world works: be a good law-abiding citizen who does no crimes, did nothing wrong, and no one cries for you, no one remembers you, no one loves you after your death. At least in my case, and in many others, because as you can see I'm not the only man that blew up on this planet. I was a good person and all I obtained is being ignored, abused and hated. And I started loving the hate, because I needed to be happy and I had only hate, so that was the only thing that could have made me happy, and if it didn't the pain would have crushed me. Be a badass killer and commit crimes and you get rewarded for it by getting three square meals a day through no hard work of your own and even getting limitless amounts of fame and attention and recognition, possibly even forgiveness from the families of your victims and your victims themselves! You get remembered after your death because you were enough of a badass who had the balls to do what ninety percent of the dumbass human population could not do. And that is kill. You get rewarded for hurting people on Earth. Deal with it."

"I perfectly understand you, Richard. But..."

"Happiness is found in the darkness only when no light saves you. So start shining, little star, because I still have the impulse to put my hands around your throat and take your breath away forever." He turns me and pulls me against his body. I look at myself in the mirror as he points a knife to my neck. The lame is pressed on my skin, I'm afraid to breathe but I can't stop. "Look, you're beautiful when you cry. Your rosy cheeks, lucid eyes, messy hair and those perfect wet lips..."

I stare in his predator's eyes and he smiles at my reflection, his smile is evil. The tears flow, the fear grows.

"I love your body. Satan gave me such a perfect victim today..." I feel his manhood on my booty, hard and hot. The panic takes over me.  _ I'll be his next victim _ . Watching him lighten by warm soft lights behind me, his strong arms around my waist and my chest, is like watching a monster ready to pull you back in the darkness stopping your screams forever. He closes his eyes breathing heavily, one of his big hands slowly takes the towel off of me. I don't resist, I know he would hurt me if I do. This is the worst situation ever. I could have talked with him before, I could have stopped him, but now I'm sure he wouldn't listen to me... a lustful man is like a wild beast. "The things I would do to you..."

"R-Richard..." I stammer.

"Ssh." The point of his knife traces a white line all the way down my chest, my belly, slipping through my sensitive lips. "The things I would do to you. You can't even imagine them. When Satan made me feel you were a virgin I felt excited like a spider seeing a butterfly in his web. I wish I could shove a dagger inside you, let you scream as it slides smoothly into you as I pump it in and out, the blood flowing out of your pussy... The devil within would love it. And, admit it or not, you would love it too."

"No, I wouldn't..." I struggle to say it, maybe because I feel the knife penetrating in my skin, or because I can't lie.

His devilish eyes meet mines again. "The fear in your eyes..." His smile fades away. His lips touch my cheek and he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, his eyes glance at the blood wetting the bends on my arm. His body tenses, his gaze darts from my blood to everywhere else. In the end, he finally stops watching my fresh injury with a dramatic sigh. "Let's go to bed, Victoria. I don't wanna hurt you tonight, that's exactly what I shouldn't do to destroy myself one more time."

I force myself to take a sigh of relief despite I don't trust Richard's self-control and I don't think I'm safe with him. I need a damn break from this whole situation. As I start walking, Richard caresses my hair and drags me to the bedroom by my arm. I don't comment his need of controlling and dominating, it's part of his personality. Instead, I focus on his hair: they are awesome. His black waves move smoothly at every step, they have a relaxing effect on me.

In the bedroom, Bundy and Jeffrey are chatting. I feel weird when they stop talking and look at me. I'm closed in a triangle: Bundy is sitting on my bed, Jeffrey is in front of me and Richard is behind me.

"Do you want chamomile? I can make it if it helps you to sleep." I offer.

"No, thanks. I've never had problems sleeping." Bundy reply.  _ Sure. He hit girls in the head with his crowbar, abuse them, kill them... go home to play with her daughter and make love with her wife, then sleep like a baby. _ The thought of his secrets is enough to send a shiver up my spine.

"I'll drink it only if you do it for you too," Jeffrey says.

I shake my head. "Sincerely, I just wanna go to bed and sleep."

I take two sleeping bags from my wardrobe and place them on the ground. Moving away the things the Night Stalker broke and threw around. "I apologize for the mess and..."  _ Am I really apologizing for the mess in my bedroom to the three serial killers that caused it? This sounds like dark humor, I can't believe it's my reality.  _ "There are only two sleeping bags, two of you will have to share one."

The three looks at each other. They find a silent accord, Ted and Richard lays on the sleeping bags and Jeffrey walks to my bed. This wasn't expected... but it's the best option for everyone. Jeffrey seems the less dangerous and if one of them sleeps with me it won't be easy to kill me without hurting an ally of their suicide squad.

I observe Richard laying, his fingers crossed behind his head, watching the ceiling and then meeting my eyes for a second before closing his. He looked at me with his predator's eyes again, not a trace of compassion for me in them, before falling asleep in the peace of the night. Suddenly I'm dragged on my bed. Jeffrey wrapped his arm around my waist and let himself fall on my bed taking me with him. I'm deciding if I should insult him or start running for my life, but then I see his playful smile and the anger fades away.

They don't seem generally sad, but I know they're not happy. When you're happy and loved you don't kill. Nobody does something that can make them feel bad just for boredom. Nobody can feel happy killing a person. The happiness killers feel, it's an illusion created by their madness to make them find the balance they need to survive in the darkness. It's a real feeling, but it's not the happiness we all aim to, it's not that deep and it's not pure.

"Victoria, do you consider yourself happy with your life and yourself?" Bundy asks in a cold voice, the voice of a killer and a psychologist mixed in one mind.

"I'm going to sleep with three psychopathic killers in my house and I wouldn't mind if I won't wake up ever again. I think you already have your answer, Mr. Bundy."

"As I thought... At least you have hope. That's what's keeping you alive."

"I wish I had a choice about all this situation. I just wanna live in peace..."

"You have no choice but to help us." And here it is, the killer gaze, so cold and inhuman I immediately doubt they are not evil creatures that I can help only dying in front of their smiles.

Bundy turns to Ramirez and I notice he grabbed Bundy's arm. It seems a silent warning. Are they jealous of their victims? This is not my world...

It's shocking how the way we perceive things can change everything. Every point of view is different and able to change the situation. The bad and the good are subjective.

My hell may be their heaven.

My hands are shaking again. I wonder how I will die and by the hand of whom. I can feel Bundy's hands around my neck, Richard inside me and I can even see my flesh being chewed in Jeffrey's mouth.  _ How the hell am I gonna sleep now? _ It's a legit question, but it sounds stupid to me as soon as I feel Jeffrey's strong arm wrapping around my waist. I close my eyes and let the nightmare possess my reality.

The game begins.

As soon as I open my eyes, my heart starts pounding in my chest. He's perfect.

I admire Richard as he lays next to me, in my tiny bed. He looks in peace, not anymore in pieces. His hands, they are huge... his fingers...  _ I want them into me...  _ I smile to the sleeping beast, resisting the urge to kiss every inch of his body.

I raise on my elbows and my eyes focus on a motion behind him: Jeffrey is on Richard's bag, looking at us with a sly smirk on his face. I smile to him, rolling my eyes and pushing my index on my lips. I don't want Richard to know I'm a creep that watches him while he sleeps... despite that's what he does too, but for other reasons. Jeff answers winking and nodding and I resist to roll my eyes again.

Instead, I silently slip out of my bed and walk to the kitchen to prepare a huge breakfast for everyone. Today a new phase of our lives starts, and it must start greatly. We will be the great people we want to be, no matter what. Love will be in the air... with strawberry pancakes.


	14. (.) Guess who's back!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an announcement! (Don't worry, it's not about taking a break or stop writing this story, it's about another true crime book I'm going to publish very soon! - Of course, I'll keep writing this story. I'm already doing it!)

I wrote a true crime book to explain with a story the fascination we feel towards criminals. I'm a perfectionist, I continuously analyze myself and infamous criminals and I'm very sensitive. I think that I can understand myself and criminals enough (on a general level to not isolate specific cases and understand everyone) to try to talk for them (with their help since I interviewed some of them to write this book) and for people that are attracted by their darkness after experiencing... different situations that I can't specify here right now.

It's my definitive work, it's like a checkpoint in the path I'm making in my life that I based on my principles and on understanding the dark side of human nature.

I'll publish the book here on Ao3. You can also check it out on the official website where I publish the entire stories instead of dividing them into parts. Ooops, I just told you they are more than one story. Here's the link to the website: [Three Messes](https://threemesses.blogspot.com/)

Link to the Instagram account of the book series (another spoiler is done!) where I post the best quotes, exclusive bonus contents, and many news: [@threemessesbook](https://www.instagram.com/threemessesbook/)

There's something that upsets me. It's something personal, but I feel like it's right to tell it, to bring some justice.

Have you ever read the acknowledgments chapter of a criminal's biography? The author thanks everyone that worked with him, but not the criminal. Let's be honest: the author makes money over the criminal's fame... insulting him after he decided to trust him enough to talk to him about his whole life and his crimes.

You can say whatever you want about Bundy, Ramirez, Dahmer, Kemper... you can say they're evil. You may be able to disrespect them, but even those men are loved by their family and it's ashaming to disrespect the families that become victims of your opinion that you decided to make a fact just because the majority cheers you whenever you use bad words to describe killers. But you can't change facts, and you can't be evil after accusing someone to be evil just to feel accepted by society. I feel embarrassed for the authors that ask the collaboration of criminals to make money on them while they freely insult them while they can't defend themselves. Killing someone weaker is terrible and killers are punished for that, but what kind of unrespectful coward can you be when you dare to insult someone that lost his right to give you an answer? Sincerely, I feel pity for these kinds of people, searching so hard for approval in a world of hypocrites.

Thank you for reading my vent.

The only people I want to thank for helping me writing this book are all the criminals I interviewed. Thank you so much for letting me get into your minds, and into your hearts.

Enjoy the book! I love you all, guys. Your comments make my days brighter, I mean it.


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